


I'm just a line without a hook

by BerenicePyke



Category: Boruto: Naruto Next Generations, Naruto
Genre: Angst and Porn, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Bisexual Hatake Kakashi, Casual Sex, F/F, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Gay Maito Gai, Gay Uchiha Sasuke, Hatake Kakashi Being an Asshole, Hatake Kakashi Has Issues, Hatake Kakashi is Bad at Feelings, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, I'm Sorry, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Minor Hyuuga Hinata/Uzumaki Naruto, Multi, Multiple Partners, Naruto is Just Naruto, One-Sided Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Temporarily Unrequited Love, Uchiha Sasuke Has Issues, Uchiha Sasuke/Naruto Uzumaki mutual pining, Uzumaki Naruto Being an Idiot, sex used as a method to escape from feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:09:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28832460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BerenicePyke/pseuds/BerenicePyke
Summary: There is something deeply wrong to treat bodies as if they were nothing more than mere instrument of carnal pleasure devoid of identity or essence. To avoid feelings, to silence the mind, to cancel the echo of unpleasant memories.To use sex to pause life and pretend not to be a broken person.Self-destruction, the only tactic to avoid talking to oneself when one cannot do so.Sometimes, the most challenging mission, the most complex war to face, is in the depths of the human soul, and there's no ninja prepared enough to know how to win them.*A not-so-linear story that follows the difficulties of the everyday life of ninjas who would need therapy, but since there isn't they find themselves dealing with emotions in the worst ways.Focused on Kakashi's slow acceptance of love; for no one else but Maito Gai. And with a Sasuke in an evident identity crisis, struggling to accept himself, and a Naruto who's just Naruto, but with a slightly more secret side, in the background. Oh and that ray of sunshine of Rock Lee featuring my interpretation of Metal Lee's mother.
Relationships: Hatake Kakashi/Maito Gai | Might Guy, Hatake Kakashi/Other(s), Rock Lee/Original Female Character(s), Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto
Comments: 2
Kudos: 13





	I'm just a line without a hook

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger warnings :  
> Use of ropes in sexual act  
> Semi-abuse of alcohol  
> Implied recreational use of soft drugs  
> ( Maybe not very IC characters, sorry ) 
> 
> *Taikomochi = male version of geisha, less popular  
> *Ochaya = places where men are usually entertained by geishas  
> *Shōchū = japanese alcoholic 
> 
> PS : English is not my native language, please have mercy on me. I'm trying my best, I need it for practice.

The yukata's fabric covers the Taikomochi's* back but leaves his lower intimates and long slender, even too skinny legs uncovered. Sasuke would have preferred to find one more fleshed out.

_« Bend over more. »_

He orders, hissing through his teeth. His fingers leave reddish marks against Taikomochi's skin, too little rosy and also smooth.   
His impatient hand goes up the arched back, pushing it to create a more significant hollow until it makes the man rest his chin against the floor.   
With far to force, he starts to thrust, generating unpleasant friction between the skin of his own penis, too dry even if protected by the condom, and the inner muscles of the occasional partner's anus, much wet.  
However, the pain does not stop the subsequent thrusts, increasingly rough and violent, as if Sasuke only desire is to feel the torture he inflicts on himself repeatedly. He's even using a protector that doesn't fit the size of the penis at all, so small that it squeezes the base excessively. 

_ « Don't you dare speak. » _

He anticipates before the Taikomochi could say anything, with his face fully pressed to the tatami and the fabric of his yukata covering his long brown hair.   
Without protesting, perhaps used to worse things, he lets himself be used in the silence of a few monosyllables just blown by Sasuke's clenched teeth.   
There is something cruel about how he treats his own body, letting the pain of friction continue to permeate every cell of his body with each brutal thrust—irregular movements, driven solely by the fury of using a body as a mere tool.   
A fury that tires him and can't excite Sasuke in any way. It's not only the pain of movements but rather the lack of satisfaction of a desire that is tormenting Sasuke's mind to the point of forcing him to give in to it. He grunts something incomprehensible, insulting gods and an unpronounceable name, then blows halfway between angry and annoyed.

_« I heard you know how to use chakra_ _»_

In the voice, only a faint wheeze and his right-hand forces the yukata's yellowish fabric from slipping and revealing the hair beneath, suddenly stopping the thrusts.   
The Taikomochi clears his throat, nodding. 

_ « The transformation technique? » _

He demand, rudely detaches himself from the other, nearly dropping him to the floor.  
The Taikomochi nods agian, slowly lifts himself, adjusting his yukata and revealing that face that is far too ovoid, tinged with white wax, and those brown eyes that are too dark, adorned with black pencil, and the lips that are too thin, painted red. All too little like that damned image that torments Sasuke's most intimate and unconfessable fantasies. A face that he can't remember to forget. 

_« And how well?_ _»_

He asks, staring at the Taikomochi sidelong, sitting down with his legs crossed, waiting for an answer that might satisfy him. 

_« Quite well, it's part of my job._ _»_

_« Good. You need a picture, I assume._ _»_

The Taikomochi nods, and Sasuke inhales, surrendering to a desire more stubborn than himself.   
He squints his eyes, hoisting himself up. Searching the pocket of his bluish pants, carefully folded and deposited at the edge of an ornament adorned with scented incense and flavored candles.   
Inhaling the smell of orange mingling with peach that filled the room, exactly as he requested; in hindsight, he could have predicted where his mind would take him; he allowed himself to be fooled. 

When he entered the Ochaya*, a handful of minutes ago, he was sure that he would be content to banish all insistent thoughts of a past that can never return, distracting himself with enough physical pain to silence the disgustingly emotional one. He was wrong; what his mind was looking for this time was a method of indulging a desire that had been tormenting him more for months than he had ever done before.   
All fault of Naruto and their last meeting, of seeing him again, grown, changed. And of that insistence with which, still, he continues to beg him to go back, to be forgiven and start over, as if it were possible to erase every single moment of the past. 

_ Idiot. He was and still is.   
A deluded, always and forever.  _

Sasuke hates him; he hates how the light in those cerulean eyes disappears every time the reality of impossibility dawns on him. Or how determination then takes the place of short resignation and continues, undaunted, to tell him that he will be able to make him come home.

_Why can't he repudiate him? Like so many others do?_  
It would all be easier, immensely, if Naruto wanted to kill him rather than save him. 

A whisper of angry melancholy escapes his lips as he clutches the crumpled photograph between his fingers. 

_ « Fucking usuratonkachi. » _

The memories are so quick to catch him unprepared that they have reduced him to this, to a needy, pathetic being, full of renegade feelings trying to escape the emotions, trying to erase them, silence them, reduce them to black nothingness. 

_« This,_ _»_ he says, returning to sit cross-legged in front of the unknown man, _« becomes him._ _»_

_« Fine, but it's been a long time since I've received such a request,_ _»_ the other justifies in advance, picking up the photograph between slender fingers, _« how does he usually act?_ _»_

_« You don't have to give a damn about that,_ _»_ Sasukehuffs, angry with himself and annoys with everything _« you'll do what I tell you to do._ _»_

He stretches his forearm to feel the floor to his right, grabbing a bottle of sakè still half full, greedily swallowing most of its contents.   
The Taikomochi inhales, squinting his eyes in a respectful bow, then concentrating his full attention on that face, impressed on a shiny photo ruined by the little care with which it's preserved. 

Sasuke has stolen it from somewhere; he doesn't even remember where exactly anymore, but he perfectly remembers wanting it as soon as he noticed it.   
The face of a16-year-old Naruto imprinted in the photo is so peacefully relaxed, with that usual jaunty smile, illuminated by rays of sunlight that make his blue irises look even brighter. Unbearably attractive. 

For days Sasuke told himself that he only wanted to keep it to use as a target, but on too many lonely nights, he turned it over and over between his fingers for minutes. He tried to throw it away, often, but he always found himself picking it up until he resigned himself to the fact that he wanted to keep it, as badly as possible,, but always with him. To remind him of everything he will never have, one more reason never to go back. 

_« Done._ _»_ Taikomochi's voice is, of course, the same as before, _« Is this okay?_ _»_

_« Don't talk,_ _»_ he hisses, finding that unfamiliar intonation unbearable _« use these,_ _»_ he then adds, stretching out the thick, purple strings that are part of his attire _« tie-»_

The Taikomochi, probably accustomed to customers with similar demands, doesn't even let him finish and grabs the ropes, beginning to wrap them around his wrists. 

_« You're not paid not to listen!_ _»_ he admonishes, thinning his eyelids in a blatant display of angry impatience _« tie my wrists._ _»_

Sasuke orders, instructing him with a nod and setting up his arms to be held in front of him, deliberately holding an unusual pose for his shoulder blades. The Taikomochi, however, does not protest; although showing a certain perplexity, he acts as requested. 

_« Tighter,_ _»_ Sasuke imposes, moving his wrists just enough to show him that it's still too easy to get rid of the ropes. _« Tie the ankles, use the same one._ _»_

He stretch his legs, bending his knees just enough to allow the rope to reach his feet, implicitly ordering the Taikomochi to perform yet another peculiar request. He humors him, again, making sure that the knots resist every movement.   
With some slight difficulty, which Sasuke masks behind an apathetic expression, he positions himself on all fours, turning his head to look for that face entirely similar to the one in the picture. 

He has to admit that the Taikomochi wasn't lying; he does well at turning into others. 

Throughout the preparation, Sasuke stared into those clear eyes, fooling himself that they were precisely the ones he wished he could mirror himself in, then agreeing how disgusting he would look in there- soiling the purity with all the blackness he carried within. 

_« Undress,_ _»_ he hisses, impatient and furious with the world or himself, _« and speak when and if I tell you!_ _»_

The stranger with illusorily familiar features nods, taking a condom before dropping the yellowish yukata to the ground and revealing a physicality unbearably too little like the face he wears. And Sasuke watches him wear the proper protection and then linger, searching around, probably trying to find something to reduce the pain of unprepared penetration, and it's annoyingly thoughtful, something that somehow resembles the face he's forced him to wear. And he can't stand it.

_« Spit on it!_ _»_

He proposes coldly. Feeling drawn to the idea that the real tongue, the one he wishes could be here, could caress inches of his skin and bathe every single millimeter of his epidermis. Hypothetical scenarios play out in his mind, and his intimacy reacts instantaneously, blood rushes down, and his erection begins to show impatience between his legs. 

If Sasuke could touch himself, he would, but he has forced himself not to use his hands properly. He can only touch the tip of his penis in a gesture that is not enough to fill the desire that he feels burning more and more. 

A tremor catches him unprepared as soon as he feels warm fingers grazing the outside of his anus, wet with saliva and then penetrating it gently, as perhaps even Naruto's could be. And he can't stand it that is so similar.

_« Two,_ _»_ he orders, _« use two!_ _»_

He doesn't wonder what the Taikomochi might think of this; he needs neither pity nor the gentleness of a stranger. All he needs now is to feel ridiculously powerless, exactly as much as that damned desire makes him feel every single time his mind forces him to remember that Naruto exists, that he's still there, waiting for him, wanting to bring him back. 

Powerless and damn won over by the need to want to have him.   
Powerless and disgustingly pathetic, overwhelmed by the blind need to be his in every way. 

Sasuke needs to feel like he can't when he's out there, looking for something that, at times, he doesn't even know what it is anymore.   
And it's not patience, nor delicacy, that he needs, but the cruelty of a punishment that must remind him how miserable he is to dare to desire something he can never have. 

_« Fast and less kind!_ _»_

He feels the Taikomochi's fingers hesitate before granting him what he demands. A quiver runs through his skin at the sensation of three fingers slowly, too slowly, preparing his inner sphincter muscles. 

_« Fuck, stop being gentle,_ _»_ a slight wheeze in his voice, _« and put it in, now!_ _»_

Perhaps, judging by the way the Taikomochi moves his fingers, he would like to object. Still, in the end, he decides that the client must always be treated as he demands. And, after allowing himself at least to wet the condom with his saliva, he grazes the entrance to the client's anus with the tip, penetrating it then with far too much caution. 

Unbearable and unrealizable images come back to torment Sasuke's mind, who, with too much roughness, moves his hips violently, pushing the whole penis to penetrate deep inside and holding back a moan halfway between pain and pleasure. As if he could chase away with the anger of each movement those images of irrelizable desire.  
Automatically he arches his back, letting the tip of his penis graze his fingers, continuing to thrust without care of himself or the other. 

The Taikomochi's hands instinctively position themselves at his hips, squeezing so weakly that they generate an unpleasant sensation that oscillates between disgust and the most desperate will to believe that there is Naruto there, with him. In a damned Ochaya hidden in an unnamed forest, far from anyone's eyes.   
Moans escape Sasuke's lips, guttural and dense with a pleasure that blends with the pain of semi-lubricated frictions, burning in his insides and generating painful twinges that Sasuke ignores, stubbornly continuing to move his hips back and forth with constant increasing brutality. 

_« You're supposed to fucking do it!_ _»_ he even complains, _« Fucking move!_ _»_

What little patience he has left is all in those words, and the Taikomochi becomes aware of it.  
He squeezes Sasuke's hips more tenaciously, beginning to thrust with less and less gentleness until he takes on a rhythm that has nothing pleasant about it but looks terribly like a punishment that leaves marks on the raven-haired man's body. Red marks of the tight ropes on his wrists and ankles are already evident; his knees are probably covered with the same spots by dint of rubbing against the tatami.   
The Taikomochi attempt to extend an arm and enclose Sasuke's penis in his fingers, but he grunts, upset, colliding his black irises to the fake cerulean ones. 

_«_ _I didn't ask you to touch me; I asked you to fuck me!_ _»_

He specifies, and it has the sound of an imposition that is more for himself than for the other. As if he wanted, deliberately, to feel all the suffering of an orgasm that demands attention, left to grow and increase, until it becomes unbearably painful to hold back. 

_« Keep fucking moving!_ _»_

The Taikomochi's hand barely lingers, then returns to position itself at Sasuke's hips.   
For minutes the thrusts maintain an uneven gait. Eventually, Sasuke's mind gets lost again, erasing everything around him; he throws his raven hair back, staring up at the ceiling above him and then closing his eyelids, indulging in visions that are personal secrets locked behind tight lashes. 

His breathing loses regularity; he no longer controls himself entirely; he allows himself to moan. 

In the secrecy of his eyelids, there is a world that no one else can know, an impossible utopia. That has the color of the most serene skies, intense rays of the sun, and a smile that resounds in genuine laughter. Of orange sunsets that paints the entire universe in the purity of a heart that the world and no one deserves. Least of all him. 

_« Come to the front,_ _»_ he commands, suddenly opening his eyes again and falling from those clouds of idyllic illusion. _« you must look at me and..._ _»_ for the first time, Sasuke hesitates, then arrogance returns, _« tell me you hate me._ _»_

There is something insecure or, perhaps, confused about how the Taikomochi moves. He stops the penetration as slowly as he started it, ignoring the obvious annoyance it causes in Sasuke.   
He doesn't get up; he crawls on his knees until he's in front of him, then stretches his legs beside the raven man, studying for a moment the possibilities of movement they have and finally deciding to lean his back against the wall behind him. And wait for Sasuke, not without logistical difficulties, to adjust himself, all too hastily, on top of him. 

His legs slightly bent, both of them, to the left side and his arms even more twisted against the Taikomochi's chest, almost wanting to cover him completely. Sasuke lifts himself just enough to give the stranger room to penetrate him again, then falls back over the lower abdomen with excessive eagerness.   
The black irises do not detach themselves, not even for a moment, from the fake blue ones. 

_« Tell me, tell me you hate me._ _»_

He doesn't want to sound so desperately pained, but he no longer has any control over his voice. It's broken between moans and choked breaths, between rage and pathetic need. 

His reflection is in those cerulean irises; he looks undone and resigned. The portrait of a man who has let himself be defeated but still tries, tenaciously and stubbornly, to believe himself in command of a situation that he has never known how to oppose, even before losing.  
The reflect of a man who is the opposite of everything that those light blue eyes would be if only Naruto were here, instead of a stranger he forced to pretend to be, faking an immaculate beauty that none can reach. 

A beauty of benevolent kindness, of immeasurable selflessness and tenacious courage, of stubborn goodness. Of vitality and brightness.   
Something Sasuke doesn't even deserve to look at and that he can only indulge in illusions. 

A sun can only hurt if observed too long and completely blinds the view. And Sasuke, like an idiot he never thought he could be, let himself be blinded when clouds even covered the sun.  
Now all he deserves, all he needs, is to feel the pain he feels every single time Naruto's name comes rattling back into his mind. To feel that terrible pain of impossibility and turn it into tangible that he can repudiate. 

Allowing his conscience to overcome him and repeat that the only sound Naruto's voice has to grant him is to hate him. 

_« I...I hate you,_ _»_ falters the Taikomochi, the voice is still too different, but the eardrums shape it until it is believable. _« I hate you._ _»_

_ « Again! » _

The thrusts with which Sasuke moves his hips are erratic, more like a struggle than an act that should be pleasurable.   
The black irises locked in those eyes he knows are fake but he pretends not to know. He mirrors himself in them, repudiating himself.   
He fold his back, resting his forehead against Taikomochi's so that he can look even better into those clear blue eyes. 

_Would Naruto ever do that?_  
_Could he ever grant him, in a last desperate wish, to make him his own, as Sasuke would not grant to anyone else but Naruto?_  
He feels the Taikomochi's hands caress his hips, almost trying to slow his movements, and Sasuke doesn't protest, too lost in the fantasy of the hands of Naruto running over every inch of his skin. 

_« Touch me,_ _»_ he asks, resigned to the desire, but still determined to show indifference _« without kindness!_ _»_

The Taikomochi's fingers don't linger this time, with the left one still steady at Sasuke's left hip and the other around the base of his penis, he begins to move it up and down, but it is Sasuke who takes control of the pace.   
Raising and lowering himself to Taikomochi's lower belly, he determines the friction between the stranger's fingers and his phallus, gritting his teeth at the inevitable pain of the condom gripping his base far too tightly, irritating his skin. 

The previous request continues to be respected by Taikomochi; the word _hate_ resonates in the room and in Sasuke's eardrums, where it has become the voice he craves in the secret of his most intimate fantasies. 

_ Would Naruto ever tell him that? _

Maybe not, he wouldn't be able to. Probably Naruto would look at him with a gentleness that would make Sasuke disgust himself even more, kiss every inch of his body, hold him close to the point where Sasuke would feel unclean in that sincere embrace.   
Naruto would tell him that he's back, that he's home, and Sasuke wouldn't be able to deny it. 

_« I hate you._ _»_

With anger mixed with melancholic awareness, disgusted by himself, Sasuke lets the orgasm catch him in spasms of restrained excitement, a forbidden pleasure that is clearly reflected in cerulean irises.   
And immediately, as if to undo the shame and revulsion at that weakness manifested, Sasuke forces his own body to slide to the right side of the Taikomochi. Letting him free his wrists and ankles, circled by the mark of the vice in which they were held.  
Hurriedly Sasuke takes off the condom, throwing it on the tatami without caring, getting up without giving a glance to the body he only used. 

_« Forgive me, but at the risk of causing harm to myself, »_ he hears the voice speak behind him, _«_ _I don't want to get paid for this._ _»_

Sasuke grunts something, hastily wiping himself clean and dressing just as quickly. In one hand he clutches a handful of coins, which, indifferent to Taikomochi's words, he leaves to the surface of the wooden ornament anyway. 

_« My job is to bring pleasure, not pain,_ _»_ insists the other, _« I am not a punisher, I am a-»_

_« You're a whore!_ _»_ grins Sasuke, full of annoyed ill-temper, continuing to show him his back, _« And whores get paid, to do whatever they're asked to do!_ _»_

_« Allow me to disagree, »_ there is neither fear nor offense in Taikomochi's voice. _« I've known many missing-nin, but none of them asked to be hated, and I don't want to be paid by a young man who-»_

_« Shut up!_ _» Sasuke_ hisses, clamping his fingers to the hilt of his sword. _« If you value your life, you must shut up!_ _»_

The Taikomochi rises, adjusting his yukata, flanking Sasuke and stepping past his static silhouette, then bending down to blow out the candles.   
He still wears Naruto's face, and a sickening quiver goes up the his throat. 

_« Of course I care,_ _everyone cares about their life_ _»_ the Taikomochi blows against the flames, _« you should too._ _»_

An electric shock tries to slide down Sasuke's right arm at the sound of that words, uttered from a mouth that, perhaps, would say the same if it were Naruto's real one.   
And the hate he feels for everything that blond hair causes him, the shame for all those damned emotions that scratch like blades stuck between his guts and his heart, is manifested in the darkness that fills his irises. 

_« I could kill you right now, and no one would give a shit._ _»_

_« Sure, you could, but what would be the point?_ _»_ inhales the Taikomochi, addressing him with a polite bow. _« Take the money back and try to-»_

_« Not another word,_ _»_ he hisses venomously, _« and get that face off of you, we're done!_ _» You don't deserve to wear it; no one does. There is only one sun, and no other can compare._  
  
Sasuke doesn't say it, but it's so implied that the Taikomochi understood it merely by listening to all the anger and sadness that fills his voice.   
Returning to his features, he gives Sasuke a second bow, watching him leave and taking with him all the destruction of a confused soul that doesn't know how to fix himself; terrified, perhaps, at the idea of trying to put himself back together again.   
And one last piece of advice escapes from Taikomochi's lips, ignored or perhaps overheard by Sasuke, who shrugs his shoulders, stiffening his steps.

_« It's never too late; try to believe it._ _»_

Sasuke grunts deeply annoyed and then he closes the door with such force that the walls wobble, filling the air with static electricity that is deadly and desperately angry.  
_He'd come for the sex, not a damned analysis session of his actions, done by complete strangers._

****

Two bottles of sakè finished a handful of minutes ago, and one of multi-distilled shōchū* that he is slowly savoring, in the half-light of red lanterns that dimly illuminate the room.   
The din of gamblers on the other side of the thin walls and music played loudly overpowers that of the moans that fill the area. And the two women try to raise their voices, make themselves heard, make more audible what Kakashi has been watching for minutes.   
  
He's relatively confident that the two women expected to have sex with him about an hour ago when he approached them and not perform a Sapphic act. If they were disappointed in Kakashi's idea, however, they did not show it.   
They just went along, without asking questions of any kind, probably expecting that, sooner or later, he would join them.   
It didn't happen, and they stayed on his game even when Kakashi asked them to recreate a scene from the book that now lies to his right.   
  
He had been pondering and rereading that single scene for days, for the last few weeks. Wondering what could be so captivating about an act of pure and passionate love between two lovers who, for years, refused to admit their feelings for each other, that attracted him so much.  
  
_What could be so exciting about hearing a man confess eternal love, praising every single aspect, even the flaws that the beloved so hates?_  
_What could be so exciting about reading about a man who, with enviable determination, never leaves the side of his beloved, even when the latter tries in every way to make himself detested?_  
_What is it about that ridiculous story of unbreakable love that excites him so much?_  
  
In the past few days, Kakashi has told himself it was the sex act, that's all. As with every other book read.   
Yet there was something, even in the description of the intercourse, that made him feel annoyingly and irritably aroused.He tried to masturbate, following the image that the story suggested to him. But there was something out of place that overlapped with the description in the book, something that came from his imagination.   
And he didn't like the scenario that was being created. It was too intimate, too much like something that resembled a desire that for years he had always denied himself the luxury of accepting to have. And the masturbation, inevitably, ended even before it led to anything.  
  
In the end, conceding partial victory to a side of himself that had become too insistent, he lazily dragged himself to the town of Tanzaku*. The book in his pocket, the page marked, and the idea of tricking his mind with the visual and tangible vision of that single scene that so excited him; for reasons he preferred to ignore.   
Just as he preferred to pretend that he has not carefully chosen the two women among the crowd. He still doesn't want to be aware of it, even now, as he looks at them, thin raven hair spread on the tatami and blonde platinum strands covering the bronze face beneath.   
  
Their bodies move in uneven breaths, the raven one more massive than the other, more muscularly formed, looking almost like a well-trained kunoichi. While the other is more petite, has narrower shoulders and a much whiter skin than the tanned one of the other.   
  
Kakashi, he still repeats to himself, has chosen them only because they were the most suitable. _But the most ideal for what, to reflect the image described in the book? Or the one that has been bothering him, blocking any attempt to drive it away together with an orgasm?_  
  
To erase, again, every question he doesn't want to allow himself to have, he glues his lips to the bottle, letting the fingers of his right hand continue to draw lazy lines along the length of his penis.   
The dark irises stare distractedly at the scene. The blonde's long fingers caress the raven's clitoris in circles of constant precision, her tongue circumnavigating the areola and then teasing the turgid nipple.   
Two women should be enough for any man, yet the erection Kakashi clutches between his fingers doesn't seem to respond in any particular way.   
The raven one seems to notice the difficulty Kakashi can't deny he has; turning her head in his direction, she opens her lips, even more, letting a suggestion escape.   
  
« _We can help you,_ » she breathes, harried, « _there's nothing to be ashamed of; every man has his less bright moments._ »  
  
Kakashi shrugs his shoulders.  
He usually doesn't have this kind of problem, women or men he's never had any difficulty stimulating himself, let alone having sexual intercourse.  
He tried to tell himself that it's the alcohol's fault, the only reason why his erection doesn't seem to respond to any stimulus. And on the contrary, it seems to have all the intention of dropping until it is reduced to flat dissatisfaction.   
  
« _They say I'm good with my tongue, and Akari here is very elastic,_ » she insists, continuing to display discreet initiative, « _we can have fun together, you know, we've wanted you for a while._ »  
  
Kakashi seems to ponder this, weighing up the alternatives left to him.   
Recreating the scene from the book, it seems, did nothing to trick his mind. Get stunned with alcoholic fumes, likewise, didn't erase any questions, only made them more confusing and persistent.   
  
A bored snort slips from behind the mask that covers half of his face; he puts the bottle on the ground and adjusts the forehead that hides his right eye; then he nods.   
  
« _Not both,_ » he specifies, however, « _you._ »  
  
« _Uh, what?_ » the blonde seems surprised. « _Her!? Well, okay, fine!_ »  
  
« _I prefer dark hair,_ » he justifies, lifting up and slipping off his pants « _nothing personal, thanks anyway, bye-bye._ »  
  
The woman gives him a hasty bow, maybe just slightly offended by a smile that she can't even notice, hidden under the mask. Perhaps it's for the best; she wouldn't like the way Kakashi seems to mock her unintentionally.   
She hurries to dress in the light blue top, adorned with white flowers and a long white skirt, leaving time for the other to rise from her supine pose and advance towards Kakashi.   
  
« _Sit down,_ » she instructed him, gently pushing him to rest his shoulders against the woody surface of a piece of furniture behind him, « _and let me do the rest._ »  
  
« _I had no intention of doing otherwise._ »  
  
Kakashi flatly replies to her, completely honest.   
He's usually not the most active of people during sex; in fact, he's heard many complaints about it, not that he's ever minded.   
After all, sex is nothing but a mere tool to reset reality, pause the whole world, and let the human body's natural reactions distract the mind from too intrusive and noisy thoughts.   
  
_He doesn't need the other person to be satisfied; he needs his brain to shut up._   
  
The woman doesn't care, continuing to display a libertine attitude that contrasts somewhat with Kakashi's idea of her when he saw her.   
For reasons he stubbornly wants to ignore, he believed the woman to be loud, talkative, sunny, and energetic. And not mischievous, provocative, and seductive.   
Honestly, it's almost disharmonious with that look, with the toned and tanned skin, with those big dark brown eyes and that short black hair that grazes her shoulders.   
  
« _The book you had us read,_ » she asks, beginning to settle between Kakashi's slightly spread legs, « _what's the point? Why that particular piece? It was very romantic, by the way._ »  
  
At the very least, he notes, she is indeed talkative.   
Kakashi inhales, pressing his back to the cabinet behind him, running a hand through his silver tufts.   
  
« _I don't know,_ » he admits, « _fetishism?_ »  
  
« _Well, maybe, but it's a good love story_. »  
  
« _If you say so._ »  
  
« _You're not a talker, huh._ »   
  
The giggle that slips from her plump lips collides with the erection between Kakashi's legs; he feels her warm breath moisten his phallus and, for the first time since he's been in this room, his erection reacts to a stimulus, and his muscles produce a slight jolt from the base of his penis to the tip.   
  
« _See, that's better already; you obviously just don't like blondes._ »   
  
The woman jokes, beginning, slowly, to caress the base of the penis with her tongue. And Kakashi would like to retort that, in truth, he has a terrible suspicion that it was the laughter that provoked that reaction.   
And not because he feels an insane desire to be laughed at, but rather because a particular and all too vivid image flashed through his thoughts, and his body reacted before even get consent.   
  
« _Hey, I have an idea,_ » the woman resumes speaking, massaging the base of his penis and testicles, « _why don't you read the chapter while I give you a blowjob? I think it would turn you on-_ »  
  
« _No, I don't think so._ »   
  
He counters determinedly, already amply aware of where it might take him if he dared to give in to such an, endearingly he must admit, idea.   
And the places of his imagination, the most unexplored ones, where perhaps as a teenager he allowed himself a few seconds of pleasurable attention, are now secret places where his adult version does not have easy permission to access it.  
However, the woman doesn't seem to want to listen to him at all and stretches out her free hand towards the book.   
  
« _I could,_ » she says, proceeding to run her other hand along the length of his penis, « _give you a hand job, or maybe you could fuck me while-_ »  
  
« _I'm not going to fuck you_ » he blows, somewhere between annoyed and indifferent, « _at most you can ride me if you want so badly, but I'd rather you just blow me. You see, I don't feel like moving._ »  
  
Many would complain about the total expressionless apathy with which he manages to utter those words as if he doesn't even have any interest, and all this is merely a pastime to which he can grant mild attention.  
  
On more than one occasion, Kakashi found himself having to endure a scene for the lack of interest he showed during sex. Even when he specifies that it's just a one-night stand, the other person always tends to look for participation and transportation, as if passion could be something that always works on command.   
  
The reality of the matter is that, in most of the sexual encounters Kakashi has had over the years, he has never really felt any passionate transportation, only natural bodily reactions. Arousal due to the stimulation of his private parts, of course, but never anything more.   
  
Passion, for Kakashi, is something absent, sometimes even when he entertains himself.   
And he has never experienced it as a problem; on the contrary, he has always perceived it as an extremely positive factor. After all, passion too often leads to involvement that, consequently, turns into feeling. And emotions are the enemy to be avoided; the ghosts in the house, the shadow of black persecution that Kakashi has avoided all his life.   
  
And sex, the mechanical kind, the kind done only to distract his mind, is the only thing he has always allowed himself. Especially after unpleasant execptions that still plague him.   
  
And this, it seems, the woman appears to have now understood.   
  
« _Oh, not only are you not chatty,_ » she exhales, leaving the book on the floor, « _but you're also not active...well, in that case, I don't care to ride you; it would be like using a dildo, and I don't need a man to do that_ » she winks at him, bowing her head « _although, I'll give you credit, I don't have many of this size at home._ »  
  
« _I'm flattered_ » the sarcasm is obvious, though the intonation is still detached « _not many people tell me that_ »  
  
And it is, of course, a lie; they both know it.   
The woman laughs about it, the warm air of her breath again against the tip of his penis, a second reaction, a twitch of arousal, stuns Kakashi.   
  
His visible eye slips to scan that raven head between his legs; from the perspective, he can only see her shoulders and the smooth black filaments that entirely cover her face. The rest of the body, the arched back, the deliberately raised ass, completely disappears from Kakashi's sight who chooses, half-consciously, not to notice them.   
  
He feels the feminine tongue caressing the skin of his penis, indulging particularly on the top of the foreskin, stimulating points that she knows perfectly are more sensitive. Getting from Kakashi's moans the reaction she expected.   
With one hand, she detaches a lock of black hair, wedging it behind her left ear and revealing a portion of her bronze face. Kakashi's black iris finds itself stuck in the woman's brown one, who stares at him with studied malice.   
  
The reaction she gets, however, is not exactly what she wanted.   
  
Kakashi doesn't speak, but his fingers do for him. He stretches them out until he captures the lock of raven hair and brings it back precisely to cover the woman's face; then, he places his hand on the top of her head.   
  
« _I thought you liked to watch,_ » she blows, without being offended by it, « _well, that's fine, pretend I'm whoever you want me to be; I don't care._ » She only says, surprisingly understanding, then starting again to give him oral sex with the same precision and attention with which she was doing before.   
And those single words for seconds torment Kakashi's mind.  
  
_Whoever he wants her to be._  
_Isn't that what, somewhat unconsciously, he was doing all along?_  
  
It's probably from the exact moment he noticed her that he started pretending she was someone else, someone who, in some way, looks tremendously like her. A female version, sure, but the closest he could find in the crowd. And Kakashi, his unconscious, settled for a woman in the absence of anything else.   
  
« _You really are something,_ » he admitted, thrusting his hips to deepen the encounter between the woman's throat and his penis, « _it almost annoys me, not being turned on by you._ »  
  
That slight woman chuckle muffled by the inability to laugh with her mouth free, further stimulates the fantasy that is now fully formed in Kakashi's mind.   
  
_It was already there before; now, it's only sharper.  
It has ultimately won him over. _  
  
Instinctively he stretches out his other free hand to grab the bottle of liquor, swallowing the last drops and then throwing it to the floor, replacing it with the book he had left next to it.   
The pages already open on that chapter that has been consumed for days and hours, the visible eye quickly scrolls the words contained, and the moans increase in intensity.   
  
« _Fuck!_ »  
  
He lets slip from his lips, a little from the work that the woman's tongue is meticulously granting him, a little from the excitement that the words written in the book arouse in him and a little too much from the idea of an equally ravenous but different head between his legs.   
  
For minutes Kakashi remains motionless, letting the woman do it all, moving her tongue up and down, cupping his testicles, and caressing them afterward. Letting that feminine mouth wrap around his entire penis until he can almost feel the tonsils with the tip.   
Letting the words of the book dig into his mind, making even sharper and more damn persistent the fantasy he tried so hard to avoid, failing miserably.   
  
« _Do you swallow or,_ » he only warns, more out of politeness, « _would you rather not?_ »  
  
The woman responds only by continuing to move her head up and down, letting him know that she has no problem. And Kakashi blows a groan, relaxing his shoulders and going back to take refuge between the pages of the book that has now become the surface on which he projects his secret fantasy.   
  
His fingers clench at the hard edge of the book as soon as his orgasm hits, more intense than he thought and more passionate than he's ever felt. Amazing even himself.  
  
She swallows every drop of the white semen, slowly sliding her mouth away from Kakashi's penis and then wiping what remains of the semen into the contour of her lips.   
Kakashi doesn't even look at her; his only visible eye is still fixed on the book's pages.   
  
« _You know--what they call you...ah yes, copy ninja...you're supposed to make me cum now,_ » she reminds him, laughing, « _but lucky for you, my friend is pretty good and has already done it all for you._ »  
  
« _Good thing._ _Thank her for me._ »  
  
He lets slip soothed. He had no intention or desire to touch her in any way.  
Not now that his mind is wandering into paths excessively and dangerously close to something more intimate, more emotional than Kakashi likes to feel.   
  
« _I figured you'd say that,_ » she smiles at him, picking up her clothes « _well, copy ninja, at least now I can confirm what they say about you, you're really lazy, even at fucking_ » she says, quickly re-dressing herself « _but the ladys also say you're well-equipped, and now I can confirm._ »  
  
« _You keep flattering me,_ » he regularizes his breathing, closing the book and getting up slowly « _so, was this what you wanted? Confirm rumors?_ »  
  
« _More or less, yes,_ » she confirms, « _no offense, it was a use and be used, more than fair._ »  
  
« _I'll give you that._ »   
  
He replies disinterestedly, adjusting his pants and placing the book back in his pocket.   
In his mind, he still has too many images, too many confirmations to horrible doubts that he has been dragging around for years and that he continues, stubbornly, to chase away.   
  
However, lately, he has been failing more often than he used to, failing too many times.   
And the terror that this situation causes to him must be so evident that it's even notable in his face, which has only one obvious eye. And the woman grasps, all too easily, the obviousness of it.   
  
« _You should go to whoever it is you imagined instead of me,_ » she advises, turning her back on him, « _I bet you wouldn't be lazy; I bet you'd fuck her into unconsciousness. I envy her already!_ »   
  
And Kakashi watches her go, with a mischievous and all too knowing sneer. After all, she actually got only one pronoun wrong, out of the whole accurate and synthetic analysis.   
And the only reaction he can have is an almost nervous laugh, throwing his head to the ceiling, running a hand through his silvery hair.  
Thinking that, after all, he knows, he's known for too many years, that if only he could dare to do as that woman told him, he would end up losing his senses even if only letting himself be touched by those hands that chase him in his most intimate thoughts.   
  
« _Ah, shit. I hate post-sex therapy._ »   
  
He jokes to himself.   
Then shakes his head as if he can rid himself of those thoughts that have been chasing him for years. Those pesky thoughts fraught with an emotional need to drown, that he thought he'd be able to fool this night and instead fooled him.   
  
Great, now he'll have to drink another fair amount of alcohol until he passes out to sleep, hoping that at least in his dreams, Maito Gai will leave him alone; although he doubts, he's been a recurring guest for at least twenty years.   
  
He stuffs his hands in his pants pockets, bending his back and rubbing his feet lazily until he leaves the room, carrying with him the weight of a truth that he must silence.   
  
« _Yo, you! I was looking for you, man,_ » he then claims the attention of the waiter who just moments before procured the alcohol for him. « _I'm guessing you have opium; how much for a nice amount?_ »   
  
Because maybe, considering his current state, a little booze won't be enough to relax him from the panic attack he already feels coming on and will overwhelm him as soon as he's alone, in the house.   
It's better to have an effective tranquilizer; after all, the law with which Kakashi treats all his emotional issues is that of prevention better than cure.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to anyone who had the courage to read this crap, I hope someone will like it anyway. Any kind of criticism is welcome, even insults are fine, but if constructive is even better.  
> Yes, the title is a reference to one of the many songs that inspired this thing, I highly recommend it : https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8JW6qzPCkE8  
> And yes, the fact that both Sasuke and Kakashi chose casual partners who resemble their respective interests is inspired by a scene from Shameless.  
> Please have mercy, I'm scared!  
> I hope it will be of interest, at least a little.  
> Thank you all.


End file.
